


Calm

by Apuzzlingprince



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4542153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apuzzlingprince/pseuds/Apuzzlingprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanley’s trying really hard to help Fiddleford remember how to operate the portal, and this leads to them being stranded in the middle of the lake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calm

“Would you stop complaining? We’re going to be fine-”

“ _Fine_? We’re stuck in the middle of the lake! We’re gonna drown or get eaten by, I don’t know - a giant octopus? This place is a goddamn minefield of weird bullshit!”

“If it’d make you quiet up, I’d be a blessing! You’re makin’ me uneasy.”

Fiddleford would have smacked Stanley with the oars if they hadn’t lost them hours ago. He ran his fingers under his heavily bagged eyes and then up through his disheveled, graying hair, gripping it at the roots. This trip was supposed to be calming. A nice, calming trip to help with his rehabilitation. Stanley wanted to him remember the specifics about the portal, but he wasn’t feeling particularly rehabilitated at the moment.

“Would you stop moving around, at least? You’re rockin’ the boat.”

“So what? We’re gonna die anyway!”

“You’ll die a lot faster if you don’t sit down, and I do mean that as a threat!”

Stanley reluctantly came to a stop in the middle of their dingy little boat and lowered himself onto the seat there, rapidly fisting and unfisting his hands.

Fiddleford finally released the hairs on his head. He’d pulled a few strands free. Brushing them off on his trousers, he turned his attention to Stanley. “And would you stop wigglin’ around? We’re not that far away from the shore, and even if we were, there’s only so far this boat can go.” He gestured to the distant, but surrounding land. “We can trek back to town once we’ve hit land.”

“And when are we gonna do that? Because we’re already been here for _hours_! I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast!”

Fiddleford touched his fingers to his forehead again, sighing. “I can’t believed I left my house for _this_.”

“Hey, you were the one who said you’d try to remember what you know about the portal! Don’t go reneging on that _now_.”

“I only agreed to that because you wouldn’t leave me alone!” He glanced dejectedly off to the side, his shoulders hunching. ‘Alone’ was a word that brought up a whole slew of unpleasant memories. He’d like to forget the association to his recent divorce and subsequent descent into alcohol and isolation, but he hadn’t been able to will himself into forgetting his wife and child.

Not yet, anyway.

“…Guess you’re the only one who bothers visiting me nowadays, anyway.”

“I guess so,” Stanley said slowly and awkwardly. “Your place looks like a pigsty, and that’s coming from a guy that’s slept in a real pigsty. You know, the kind pigs sleep in. Long story.” He reached up to rub at the nape of his neck. “Your wife was the one cleaning up the mess, huh?”

“It wasn’t mess, it was-” He bit back his words, too reminiscent of those he had yelled at his wife the night she had left him. He was trying to help people, and she just hadn’t understood. After a moment, he continued, “It’s real lonely without her and my boy. Real quiet. Don’t like the quiet. It’s like – you know, that saying? 'Alone with your thoughts’? Probably more to it, but I can’t remember.”

He couldn’t remember a lot of things, these days, but that was small sacrifice for comfortable ignorance.

“Sorry, that’s, uh. That’s tough,” Stanley said, and he said it in a quiet, solemn way that suggested he empathized rather than sympathized. Without Stanford, maybe he was just as alone as Fiddleford himself was.

It was a strangely comforting thought. He shifted slightly in their rickety boat – which Stan had dubbed the Stan 'o War - and managed a small smile.

“Did you hear 'bout the robot I made after?”

Stanford arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, I was pretty impressed by that. What the hell was it, anyway? Sort sort of bird?”

“Pterodactyl.”

“…What? That’s a dinosaur, right?”

Sometimes talking to Stan was like talking to a pre-schooler. It was an endearing quality, if a little annoying when Stanley failed to grasp some basic concepts. “Yeah, that’s a dinosaur.”

“Why’d you build it, anyway? Didya really think a giant dinosaur bird would bring your wife back?”

“Uh, well…” He shrugged. “It made sense to me at the time.”

Stanford mouth curled into a small, toothy smile. “Geeze, you’re a weird one, doc.”

“Not even gonna try to deny that.” Thought he had once been a simple man with a simple life, this town had taken its toll on him. He couldn’t label himself as 'normal’ any more and he became even less so with each passing day.

His mouth dropped back into a frown that pulled heavily at the rest of his face. He was always over thinking things, these days. Dwelling on them until the urge to get rid of the source overwhelmed him; using the memory eraser was almost like an addiction. Once you knew there was an easy way out of reality, it was hard to stop.

He felt Stan shift and looked up. The man had moved to sit beside him, shoving the bait box out of the way with his foot.

“Don’t look so damn miserable all the time, Fids. Every thing’s gonna be fine.” He elbowed him lightly, and then paused, peering around at their surroundings. “Well, it will be once you’ve used that 'genius’ mind of yours to get us out of this mess.”

Great, now Stanley was the one comforting _him_. “Oh, you managed to compliment me without tacking on 'poindexter’,” Mcgucket said wryly. “That’s a first. Thanks.”

“Yeah, well. You _are_ a poindexter.”

Fiddleford laughed. For all of a minute, he was happy. Actually happy.

And then he had to go and ruin the moment by turning his head and planting a kiss on Stanley’s mouth.

It was chaste, more of a mash of mouths than a real kiss, but Stanley reared back all the same, eyes as wide as saucers. Fiddleford felt as if he had been doused with hot water when he saw that expression, ashamed and embarrassed.

“Oh, God, Stanley, I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t – I didn’t think–”

“Yeah, uh, it’s o-”

“I just, you were being so _kind_ to me.” His bottom lip trembled. “And I’m so lonely these days, I don’t have no one at home to-”

“Fiddleford, would you _shut up.”_ Stanley snapped. “I don’t want hear about you being lonely, geeze. Way to embarrass _both_ of us, poindexter.”

Fiddleford fell silent, looking immensely guilty.

After a couple of deep breaths and an unconscious lick of his lips (one Fiddleford felt his stomach knot at, increasing his guilt ten-fold), Stanley spoke again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I ain’t gay.”

“…Okay?” That was disheartening. He felt his cheeks flush despite his best efforts to remain calm and collected.

“But uh,” Stanley continued, pausing periodically. “I can make exceptions and junk…” That was heartening, but deeply confusing. His forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Could you maybe be a lil’ more clear 'bout what you’re trying to say…?” He said, and then quickly added, “If you don’t mind. We can drop the subject, if you prefer.”

“Yeah, I’d prefer that,” Stanley began, seeming unable to hold Fiddleford’s gaze, now. He was staring rather intensely at the bottom of their boat. “But I’ll tell ya straight up, I don’t mind if you wanna fool around and shit, if that’ll help you get better.”

Fiddleford felt his heart plummet, and the feeling that developed in his belly was as if it had plummeted straight into his guts. “You’d do that? Out of _obligation_?” He might have been far gone, but he wasn’t so far gone that the vestiges of the man he used to be weren’t upset by the idea. Were he less sane, more lonely, _maybe_ … but he wasn’t just yet. He still had pride, and he still had his moral compass.

“–No, I mean, I _wouldn’t_ _mind_. If you wanted to, I mean. It’s not exactly a new thing to me.” Stanley had mentioned something about having lived on the streets, at one point, and it occurred to Fiddleford that he had probably done some degrading things in order to feed himself. “If knowin’ that makes you not want to any more, that’s fine to. I get that.”

Fiddleford quickly shook his head, his wild hair falling over his eyes. He brushed it back before he spoke again. “I- I guess I’d…” he trailed off, clearing his throat in lieu of admitting his interest. “Are you sure you’d be comfortable with doing something like that? Are you _really_ sure?”

Stanley snorted. “Do I seem like the kinda guy who’d offer if they didn’t mean it?”

“…No…?”

He received a heated glare. “Gonna do you the favour of ignoring that pause. Now, you wanna do this or not? Because I really don’t mind, either way. If it’ll help, great. If it won’t, use that memory thingamajig to forget this ever happened. Alright?”

“Alright…” Fiddleford sounded hesitant, and his body language was even more so, his fingers twitching and squirming in his lap. “It’s goin’ to be a few hours before we reach the shore, and there’s no one around, so…”

Finally, Stanley seemed as flustered as him, if not more so. He ran his hands over his burning cheeks and cleared his throat. “Good way to pass the time, eh? Okay, just, uh… unzip and lean back and I dunno, think of England if you gotta.”

Taking a deep breath, Fiddleford did as he was instructed and leaned back, looking up into the sky while the other man shifted to his knees and bent over his lap. By the time they were done here, he would know whether or not he would want this to be a regular thing. Thought, by the way Stan’s warm breath was rolling over his already tenting briefs, he suspected he was going to want to do this again and very often.

He let out a little gasp as Stan licked his way up his briefs, up the underside of his shaft, and then pushed the obstruction aside, sucking at the leathery head of his cock. A hand involuntarily flew to Stanley’s long brown hair, reflexively gripping and pulling him in closer. He felt Stanley part his lips and quickly took the base of his cock, guiding his cock into the mans wonderfully warm, inviting mouth.  

All concerns and self-conscious anxieties disappeared and he moaned loud as Stanley began to suck and bob with an expertise he wouldn’t have expected from such a burly man. He raked his fingers through his hair, gripping sporadically and occasionally pushing him down until Stanley urged him to let him pull back. It was hard to restrain himself, having not been intimate with anyone – not even his wife – in a very long time.

When he looked down at Stanley, the mans eyes were heavy and lidded. There was a strange, youthful determination there that compelled Fiddleford to stroke his scalp with his fingertips, an offer of praise. Stanley responded with enthusiasm, diving down to take his cock right down into the back of his throat and that was it. That was all Fiddleford could take. With a jerk of his hips, he came straight into the back of Stanley’s throat, eliciting a variety of happy little sounds as Stanley’s mouth and throat tremored around his cock, struggling to swallow his load. When Stanley had finally fulfilled that task, he let Fiddleford’s now flaccid cock slip out of his mouth with a wet 'pop’.

“Jesus,” Stanley said, somewhat breathless. He didn’t try to remove the hand that was still buried in his hair. “I must’ve swallowed like, eighty kids right there.”

Fiddleford laughed. That was the second time today Stanley had made him laugh – _genuinely_ laugh. “Good. One is enough.”

The boat rocked gently when Stanley started to stand. Fiddleford prevented him from getting far by throwing a hand out onto his shoulder and gently encouraging him back to his knees.

“Wait.” He leaned over Stanley, moving his mouth to the mans broad, stubbled jaw, where he proceeded to murmur. “We got hours left to waste.”

“Yeah?” Stanley own voice had lowered in volume, and he set his hands on Fiddleford’s thighs, grinning. “Guess I’d better get back to it, then.”


End file.
